” “Was he divorced, do you mean?” “No, but he got himself mixed up in a divorce case. ” “It is an accident,” he answered. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. “She can’t. It was convenient for Father Saint-Simon, who could enter this way and prepare in the little room before going up the narrow stair to the chapel above where the nuns waited.
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